


no light in your bright blue eyes

by threeplusfire



Series: Bad Things Come In Threes [10]
Category: Hat Films - Fandom, The Yogscast
Genre: Discussion of Rape, Drowning, Fae manipulation, M/M, Multi, Threats of Violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-26
Updated: 2015-01-26
Packaged: 2018-03-09 05:19:40
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,541
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3237764
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/threeplusfire/pseuds/threeplusfire
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Something isn't right at home in the Garbage Court, and Trott looks for the answers.</p>
            </blockquote>





	no light in your bright blue eyes

**Author's Note:**

> This was so hard to write, and brought up a lot of old ghosts. You don't get to choose what stays and what fades, but you can choose to write a different story.
> 
> My most sincere and grateful thanks to the people who helped me pull this together and who offered their suggestions/assistance at various points during the writing of this story. Summer and Leon, for all their suggestions and putting up with me falling apart during the two weeks it took to get this right. Eirwyn and Julia for offering help to beta read for various issues and fixing my eternal inability to use enough commas. Thanks for helping me get this finished.

Smith brought home a new video game console and a load of games, looking very pleased with himself. He was instantly enamoured of a competitive racing game, and insisted they play whenever they were together. Privately, Trott thought it was remarkable no one had thrown a controller through the television yet. They were each terrible in some fashion, and no one handled losing gracefully. It degenerated into a lot of shouting. But Smith thrived on the shouting, and was utterly gleeful about it win or lose.

“Come on, Ross!” Sips chortled, leaning back on the sofa. “Step up your game!” He careened over the finish line in first place.

Ross snorted and smiled wanly. Sips cheered at his score and clinked his glass with Trott in a celebratory toast.

“Ross, mate, you are shit at this tonight.” Smith leaned over from his place beside Ross on the floor, and snatched the controller from him. “Let me have a go.”

“Yeah, do that.” Ross wrapped his arms around his knees and watched as they loaded another race. Sips shoved at Smith with a foot, making him growl. Within twenty seconds they were yelling at each other over the sounds of the game.  

Trott wondered about the lack of a snappy comeback. Ross was not normally so quiet. He gave as good as he got most of the time. He leaned forward and ruffled Ross’ hair, watching the race. When Sips offered him a controller, Trott just shook his head. Ross was still quiet, not even jabbing Smith with his tail to throw off his game like usual.

“Pick up some more controllers,” Trott said, nudging Smith during a break in the action. “Then we can all play at once and kick your ass.”

Smith grinned and took a long drink of his beer.

“Come on, Ross, race me.” Trott picked up the controllers and handed one over, hoping to shake him out of his quiet mood.

 

* * *

Halfway to the front door, Trott paused in the search for his gloves. Ross stood by the windows in the living room, staring outside. Even his tail was still, an unusual sight. Something about his expression made Trott wonder.

“Ross.”

He didn’t respond, didn’t even flick his gaze away from the window. Trott frowned and stepped into the living room.

“Ross?” he called again, skirting the pile of empty pizza boxes and the coffee table. When he still didn’t get a response, Trott walked right up and mock punched Ross in the arm.

“Ross!”

“Sorry, what?” Ross blinked and turned his head. His eyes seemed dim, dampened somehow. It reminded him of Ross’ quiet during the game the other night.

“What are you staring at?” asked Trott curiously. There wasn’t anything that interesting outside. Just another grey morning, unpleasantly cold and snowing lightly.

Ross shrugged and offered him another of those wan, half smiles. Trott narrowed his eyes.

“The snow?” Ross offered. “Nothing really.”

“You alright?” His expression was skeptical. Trott was starting to think something wasn’t right.

“Yeah, I’m fine.” Ross smiled again, this one a little more genuine. “You off then?”

“Things to do, people to see,” Trott said. “Don’t stand there all day, okay?”

“Sure,” agreed Ross. He was still at the window when Trott closed the door. Several times during the day he pulled out his phone and stared at the contacts list, wondering if he should call Ross and see what he was up to. He told himself he was imagining things and put the phone away.

 

* * *

On the kitchen counter, there were jars of jams and jellies lined up in a rainbow from strawberry jalapeno to blueberry. A partially unwrapped stick of butter sat on a plate, the edges softening. The stove was crowded with pans, the remains of bacon and eggs cooling slowly. The electric kettle ticked off.

Sips and Smith were quietly bickering over something as they stuffed in breakfast at the kitchen table. Trott leaned on the counter and piled bacon slices on his toast to make a sandwich. He stared at Ross, who was silently shredding his toast into smaller and smaller pieces. Trott watched him reduce the toast to crumbs without ever actually eating any. It wasn’t like Ross to skip a meal, especially not one he made. He had gotten so much better at not burning the bacon.

Trott caught a glimpse of his disconsolate expression as Sips and Smith stumbled out the front door together. He couldn’t ignore the strangeness any longer. It was getting worse every day. Half the time Ross wasn’t speaking, and the rest of the time he was staring at Smith as if he was waiting for something to happen. Trott intended to find out what was going on before the day was over. He wiped the grease from his fingers and set his plate in the sink.

“Come on.” Trott tugged at Ross. “I’m working from home today. Come keep me company.” There wasn’t much reason to slog through the weather if he could do everything from here, and he felt reasonably certain the store wouldn’t burn down.

Ross followed him back to his office bedroom, carrying Trott’s messenger bag overstuffed with papers. On his desk, Trott set a plastic cup full of ice that melted slowly and left a ring of condensation.

He was quiet while Trott made his phone calls, checking in on the shop and arranging orders with some of his suppliers for the new season. Trott looked over from time to time, watching Ross thoughtfully. Usually he teased Trott while he was on the phone, tapping at him with his tail until Trott would reach over and hold him still. Ross rested his head against Trott’s hip, his tail looped under the chair and unobtrusively around Trott’s ankle. Trott rubbed his hand through Ross’ hair, feeling him shift so his cheek rested on Trott’s thigh. Eyes closed, perfectly still, he looked more like the gargoyle on the roofline than usual.

Not for the first time, Trott marvelled at whatever strange magic made Ross and how he’d gradually grown sharper and slightly more human in his looks. His eyes lashes were dark, and Trott felt certain he hadn’t had those when Smith first brought him home. His fingers were heavy on Trott’s knee but they looked utterly human right now. Trott had seen the claws on them, and remembered. He wasn’t quite sure whether Ross was consciously controlling that transformation or if it was just another bit of sympathetic mimicry. But all the years blurred together, and Ross was constantly still Ross. Curious and reckless, devoted and fierce in his loyalties. Trott was glad that Smith’s impulsive fire brought Ross to them. He balanced them.

It was close to midday when Trott stood and stretched. He walked down the hall to get more ice. When he slipped back into his chair, Ross just laid his head back down on Trott’s leg without a word.

Trott picked up his phone and dialed, holding it against his shoulder as he watched Ross.

“Where are you right now?” he asked when Sips picked up.

“At the office, why?” Sips sounded bored.

“Smith with you?”

“Yeah, he’s flirting with the girl who does the billing.”

“Keep your eyes on him today.”

“Why? What’s up?” Sips asked, perking up at the hint of trouble.

“He’s a fool, that’s what.”

“Water’s wet, Trott.”

“Yeah, yeah.” He rolled his eyes, realizing too late the gesture was lost on a phone call.

“You want him for something?”

“No.” Trott stacked a handful of invoices into an untidy pile and stuffed them into a folder. “Go with him on his runs, don’t let him pick anyone up. Keep him occupied.”

“Alright.” He could hear the creak of Sips leaning perilously far back in the desk chair. “I’ll bring him back around seven then.”

“Thanks.” Trott hung up and drummed his fingers on the desk. He focused on the view out the window.

The light outside was grey, wintry cold and directionless. It warmed enough to melt the snow a bit, leaving everything an icy, dirty mess. From the window, Trott could see all the enormous buildings of downtown, swathed in the grey mist. Sips would keep Smith busy out there, baiting him with those casual, backhand comments that burned Smith from the inside out.

“Ross.” He kept his voice level and calm. “Whatever it is, I know Smith’s involved.”

“No,” Ross said, pressing his face to Trott’s thigh so his voice was muffled. “It’s fine.”

“It’s not fine, Ross.”

“Can we not?” mumbled Ross. “Please?”

Trott sighed and took a drink of his water, the slivers of ice sliding in his glass.

“Come on, sunshine, look at me.” He coaxed Ross up with hands on either side of his face. “I’m worried about you.” Their eyes locked, and Ross squirmed under the weight of Trott’s penetrating stare. It was too late to break away.

“Just tell me what happened, sunshine. You don’t have to keep secrets from me.”

“Trott…”

Ross shifted, guilty and troubled. He knew where this was headed.

“You can give it to me, or I can take it.” Trott’s voice was gentle. “I’d rather you tell me.” He rubbed a thumb over Ross’ cheek, over the place a fae’s claws cut him open during midwinter. The touch was gentle, but when Ross tried to pull away his grip was unyielding.

“It wasn’t his fault, Trott. I - I don’t want-”

“Don’t worry about that,” soothed Trott. “Tell me.”

Ross stopped, hesitating under Trott’s gaze. Shame twisted in him, making him wish he hadn’t opened his mouth at all. He felt awful, aching. The silence weighed him down and Ross wanted nothing more than to drop his head back into Trott’s lap. But Trott’s hands were still holding his head up, thumbs rubbing little circles into his skin.

“It’s done, it’s over, can’t we just…” Ross trailed off, unnerved by Trott’s silence. He cast his eyes down.

“What aren’t you telling me?” Trott asked. He cupped one hand under Ross’ chin, used the other to stroke his hair.

“Trott…” His voice caught.

“Haven’t you always trusted me?” He tilted Ross’ face up, seeking his answers in the way Ross tried to avoid his eyes.

“I do.”

“You’ve always told me the truth, Ross.” He winced at Trott’s words, feeling the rebuke in them. He just wanted Trott to run his fingers through his hair, not ask questions with difficult answers.

“I-”

“Is there someone you trust more?”

“That’s not…” Ross trailed off, feeling sick at heart. His head ached and he stumbled over his words. “I don’t. There isn’t anyone else I would, Trott.”

“It worries me that you won’t tell me.” Trott’s voice was disappointed, even as he brushed his knuckles against Ross’ face. “Something’s wrong.”

“Please don’t.”

“Don’t what?”

“Don’t be angry.”

“I’m not angry, sunshine.” Trott’s dark eyes focused on him in a way Ross found unnerving, as if he could see all the way through him.

“Tell me what it is, and you’ll feel better,” Trott coaxed. His fingers traced the line of Ross’ brow, down his cheek to his jaw. Ross turned his face into the touch.

“I asked him to show me,” Ross admitted, his voice hoarse. It was easier if he could hide his face against Trott’s hand. “It’s my fault, I asked-”

“Asked what?” interrupted Trott.

“To show me whether I could drown.”

Trott held his breath for a moment. Of course. He could practically smell the water and weeds, the green and faintly rotten tang of kelpie magic. Trott cursed himself for not imagining the possibility. For not imagining that Smith could be so impossibly stupid and that Ross would be willing to do something like this for him.

“What did he do?” asked Trott, taking great care to keep his voice steady.

Ross closed his eyes and shook his head very slightly. Trott frowned and let go of his face. Instead he pulled Ross up onto his knees and wrapped an arm around his shoulders. Ross made a soft sound, and pressed his face into Trott’s chest. The warmth, the feel of shirt buttons to his cheek, the arm holding him close, all soothed him.

“I thought if he fucked me, like he does to them, it would help him.” Ross felt something ease in his chest to admit it. “I just wanted to know what it felt like…”

“So he used his magic on you.” Trott kept the fury out of his voice. It was difficult. He wanted to shout, because _fucking Smith_ and his _careless fucking magic._ But coaxing Ross into talking needed a gentler hand.

Ross nodded. He let himself cling to Trott, hooking his fingers into his belt. Trott wasn’t yelling, and that was a good sign. Maybe it wasn’t so bad. He risked looking up to meet Trott’s gaze.

“People aren’t supposed to survive that charm, Ross.”

“I don’t have to breathe, I thought…” He trailed off, uncertain. The look on Trott’s face unsettled him.

“It’s not your fault,” Trott assured him. He cupped one hand to the back of Ross’ head and pulled him against his chest once more.  

“I just-”

“I know, sunshine. You were just trying to help.”

“What are you going to do to him?” Ross asked, quiet and still again.

“Don’t worry about it.” Trott spoke absently, already thinking ahead.

“But-”

“We’re going to have a little chat about being more careful, that’s all.” Trott grimaced. He wanted to give Smith a beating he’d not forget for this foolishness. But he had no idea if the kelpie even understood his own magic, and this wasn’t the kingdom under the sea. Things had to be handled differently here.  

Ross sighed and let himself relax a little. Trott rewarded him with a kiss to the top of his head.

“First, we need to get that magic out of you. It’s making you sick.”

Trott led Ross back to the en suite bathroom with the enormous garden tub. It was tacitly Trott’s private space and was rarely used by anyone else, since it was only accessible from Trott’s office. In a cabinet, Trott rifled through a collection of glass jars full of salt and dried seaweed and other less identifiable things. He glanced over his shoulder at Ross, staring uncertainly at the tub.

“Come on, sunshine, this won’t hurt.”

“I’m not afraid of that.”

“Course you aren’t.” He gathered the jars to his chest and carried them to the tub. Running the water hot, Trott dumped in handfuls of powdered bone and shell, salt, and seaweed until the steam smelled more like the ocean than tap water. He wasn’t about to haul Ross down to the beach in the middle of winter but this would do nicely. Trott inhaled deeply and started to unbutton his shirt. No sense soaking his clothes. Ross stood there, tail swishing back and forth, barefoot on the fake marble floor.

“This is how I know things aren’t okay.”

“What?” He looked down at Trott, watching him unbutton his jeans.

“Any excuse usually has you out of your clothes in a flash.”

“Right.” Ross half smiled and stripped off his hoodie and shirt, letting them pile up on the floor. He kicked his jeans away.

“In you go.” Trott watched him step gingerly into the water, cloudy with all the things floating about in it. He left his own clothes folded on the edge of the sink and sat on the edge of the tub. The water rose as Ross sat down, lapping at the sides of the tub. It wasn’t quite long enough for him to lay down in there, but it was wide and comfortable even for an oversized gargoyle.

Trott scooted along the edge until he sat at Ross’ shoulder.

“What now?” Ross asked. His tail broke the surface, dripping and gleaming.

“Relax a little.” Trott pushed on his shoulder. “Get warm. It will help you feel better.”

While Ross stirred the bits of seaweed and things floating in the water with his tail, Trott carefully searched out Smith’s magic. He knew a simple trick, one to make it easier to see magical things, and the bright light of it flared with a little hand waving and a magic word. Trott bit back a gasp. There was far more than he expected, sunk deep into the shimmering blue that was Ross. He studied Smith’s magic, one hand rubbing Ross’ hair as he pondered the best way to get it out.

It was hard to look at Ross like this, given that he was made almost entirely of magic. It wasn’t like looking at Smith, with his ghostly shadow shape or even some of the other magical things in the city with their double halos and the glow of magics in all colors. Trott’s eyes burned from it. He tried to focus on the muddied swirl of Smith’s magic still tangled through Ross like weeds in the cracks of the sidewalk.

“Did it hurt, when he drowned you?”

“Not very much.”

“I think maybe you swallowed too much of it,” Trott said quietly. “Have to get it out.”

“Is that it?”

“Mmmhmm.” Trott stood in the tub, stepping carefully over Ross’ legs. When he sank down, the water rose almost to the top and threatened to spill onto the floor. Ross smiled and took Trott’s hips in his hands. Steam condensed on his horns, little droplets of water sliding down onto his forehead. Trott leaned forward to kiss him, slow and soft. Their movements made waves in the water, little splashes.

Trott pulled Ross under the water, still kissing him. They had to slide backwards, Ross folding his knees up to make room for himself in the bottom of the tub. Kneeling astride him, Trott pressed Ross to the bottom of the tub.

Trott’s magic made the water enough like the ocean that he could breathe just fine. He held Ross by the throat and pulled his mouth away.

“Trust me,” he murmured and hoped Ross could understand him.

Ross’ eyes were wide, but he didn’t struggle. A line of bubbles drifted out of his mouth and Trott watched him very carefully.

“Tell me if it hurts, sunshine.” He put his other hand between them on Ross’ chest. Ross nodded, his eyes never leaving Trott. His fingers tensed. He concentrated on the spell, and began ripping out the remains of Smith’s magic. Weeds, he kept telling himself. Weeds to be pulled out before they choked out everything else.

Ross involuntarily arched his back in pain, banging his head against the bottom of the tub and almost pushing Trott up out of the water. Trott looked at him, but he shook his head.

“Ross.” Trott’s voice sounded strange underwater, more musical and less human. Their faces almost touched. Trott’s hair wavered around his head, backlit by the light above them.

“No, I’m okay.” It was hard to talk underwater.  It hurt, but it didn’t hurt so much he couldn’t stand it. He wanted to be good though, because it pleased Trott so much when he did what was asked. Even if it was hard, or it hurt. Ross liked that. He could endure, and it was a point of pride with him that he could endure more than anyone thought. He was made to be steadfast.

“I don’t think I can do it without making it hurt,” warned Trott, his voice soothing.

Ross smiled and Trott stroked his face before putting a hand back on his chest.

“Deep breath, sunshine, let me in there.” Ross nodded, and surrendered himself to Trott’s magic. Whatever this magic was for, it was different from Smith. It was so much more gentle. It hurt, it hurt so much worse. But the water was slower, sliding down his throat and it didn’t demand so much of him. It felt less like a storm and more like the tide. Ross tried to relax into it, to let it take what it wanted from him.  

Trott could feel Ross’ tail swishing in the water behind him, the only sign of the discomfort he surely had to feel. The magic was stuck in deep and even with the water to help, it was still hard going to get rid of it. Trott spared an angry breath for Smith’s recklessness and went back to working it loose.  

Ross felt the ache in his chest, a desire to breathe familiar air. There was magic all around them, infusing the water. Ross couldn’t see it, but he could feel it tugging at his thoughts and demanding his attention. It prickled, a sensation like the moments before lightning flared. The pain came in waves, steady and unrelenting.

Trott pulled Ross up, not wanting to keep him under too long. Even if he didn’t have to breathe, it probably wasn’t entirely good for him. Water splashed over the lip of the tub, and Ross coughed out what was in his throat.

“Still okay, sunshine?”

Ross nodded, not trusting his voice.

“It’s not done yet.” Trott watched him closely. Ross nodded, and rubbed a hand over Trott’s hip, pulling him forward. He smiled very slightly as he felt Trott shift and rub against him.

With one hand cupped to the back of Ross’ head, Trott kissed him again. He could taste the salt on Ross’ lips, the seawater tang as familiar as blood and twice as much home. Trott pushed him back under. This time he didn’t break the kiss before he started, one hand tracing the lines of Ross’ chest as he drowned him as gently as he could. The water slipped in, and it was easier going the second time around to wash away all that remained of the kelpie’s charm. He could see now, exactly what the magic did when Smith turned it loose. Like almost everything from the water, it was full of seduction and underneath that was a blackness that whispered of death.   

Trott breathed so much easier when it was done. He pushed at the drain stopper with his toes until it came loose and the water sluiced away. Ross coughed and shivered a little. Once all the seawater drained, taking the taint of magic with it, Trott flipped the taps on again and filled the tub back up as high as he could with both of them sitting in it. From one of his jars, he dumped in something that fizzed and smelled like lemons.

“How’s it feel now?” he asked Ross, raising himself up onto his knees so the gargoyle could scoot back and lean against the end of the tub. Ross sank down with a sigh, and Trott settled himself back on his lap.

“Better.” Ross flicked his tail through the water. Trott rubbed a hand through Ross’ hair, making it stick up in little wet spikes.

“Good.” Trott leaned forward. “Something like this happens, you need to tell me.”

“Right.”

“I mean it. Not just Smith. Anyone. If you get hurt...” Trott let his voice trail off as something in Ross’ expression shifted.

“Ross.”

He looked up at Trott. His eyes were shadowed.

“What aren’t you telling me, still?”

“Do you remember last summer, when you had that order from the greenhouse?” asked Ross in a soft voice that Trott had to strain to hear.

“Yes?” Trott answered, the question catching him off guard.

“And something happened, and we stopped.”

Trott frowned. He cast another spell, a muttered word under his breath and a hand under the water moving in a quick gesture, hunting for any trace of magic in Ross. There was nothing that didn’t belong, but worry made him check again.

“He-” Ross stopped, closed his eyes. He felt the tentative brush of Trott’s magic on his skin. “He talked a lot, about how I should serve a true king.”

“You told me.”

“He did something… I don’t know if he did it consciously or if it was just him, the way he is...”

Trott didn’t say anything, instead letting his hands rest on Ross’ chest. He didn’t like where this was going, didn’t like his suspicions about what Ross would say next. Dread knotted in his stomach.

“It was kind of like what Smith does, all that charm.” Ross blinked, and kept his gaze on the water in the bath. “Before I knew what I was doing, I was on my knees and it felt so good, Trott, and that’s no excuse but fucking hell I-”

“Oh, _Ross_ ,” Trott interrupted. “Why didn’t you say something?”

“Because I hated myself for doing it, for letting him shove his cock in my mouth?” Ross raised his eyebrows, voice bitter. “Because the last thing I wanted was Smith to go off in a rage and try to do something like burn down the greenhouse? Because I worried you might be angry at me for being careless enough to let him get close enough to touch me? I don’t know, Trott, I really don’t.”

Trott slumped down into the water, not caring how much it splashed. He pressed himself to Ross.

“I’m not angry with you,” he said in a fierce whisper. “I’m angry that he did this.”

“I didn’t know what to do. I couldn’t tell anyone.”

Trott made a sad, frustrated sound and gripped Ross tightly. His knuckles scraped the tub.

“Just.. he didn’t stop, Trott. And - and I know I started it…”

“It’s not your fault, sunshine.”

Ross sighed.

“I keep thinking I could have done things differently, right from the start.”

“You’re going to make yourself crazy, trying to change what’s already done.” Trott lifted a hand to brush Ross’ wet hair back. He sat back up so he could study Ross’ face.

“I wanted - I don’t know what I wanted. It felt good at first.”

"It doesn't matter, Ross. It's not your fault this happened."

"You don't - you can't just forgive something like that, Trott, you don't know what I -"

"What don't I know?"

Ross turned his head away, his lips pressed tight. It made something in Trott ache to see it. He wanted to scream. Instead he gentled his voice as much as he could.

"Go on, then, sunshine. Tell me why I should be ashamed of you."

"Because it nearly fucking worked, that's why. It did fucking work, I -" His throat closed. "I'm sorry. I'm so sorry."

Trott smoothed a hand over his hair. "Keep talking."

"He said you didn't deserve me. That I was - fuck, Trott, I can't."

"You're going to."

"That I was better than you.” Ross paused, collecting himself. “That I could be more, that I had forgotten my true calling. Abandoned my place, he said. He said he could give me a second chance."

"At what?"

"Being what I was made to be."

“He used you against yourself,” Trott said in a quiet, serious voice. “He knows, just as well as I do, what you are and what your magic makes you. Of course he’d play it against you, exploit your nature. He set you up, Ross.”

“I failed -”

“This was not your fault,” Trott repeated firmly.

“He’s right though.” Ross closed his eyes again. “I’m an oathbreaker. I let my church burn, I’m no real guardian anymore.”

“Ross, you know that isn’t-”

“It is true though!” He gestured, the movement angry. “I failed my makers, I’ve failed you, I just keep-”

“Ross, no.” Trott let his voice grow sharp. “Others failed you. They left you on a roof, the church dying underneath you. I sent you into the greenhouse.” He paused, biting down on his tongue. Should have known, should have paid more attention, Trott told himself. Even a deal wasn’t protection or any guarantee of truce.

“I should have known he wouldn’t resist an opportunity to try to steal something back from us, given how much of the city we’ve taken from him.” He sounded angry and resigned and sad all at once.

Ross took a deep breath and the words tumbled out in a rush. “I don’t- I wanted… gods, I just wanted to be worthy. There was a moment when I felt… why did I listen, I should never have listened to him. I should have run.”

Trott took Ross’ face in his hands, leaning their foreheads together. He could feel Ross’ horns digging into his skin. Ross’ eyes were closed, brows drawn together in pain.

“I’m so, so sorry, sunshine. I should never have sent you there alone.”

“No, Trott-”

“He will pay for it, Ross.” Trott’s voice was low, deadly and even. “I promise you that.”

Ross curled his tail up, settling it around Trott’s waist. The glass was warm from the water, heavy on Trott’s back.

“There is enough blood, and love, between us. Between all of us.” Trott was aware he was about to say something irrevocable. He took a deep breath.

Ross made a soft little sound and kept his eyes closed.

“I love you, and Smith loves you, and so does Sips,” said Trott. “Nothing can take that away. What he did doesn’t make you less, doesn’t change who you are to us.”

Ross tried to speak, and choked on the words. Instead he pulled Trott down and buried his face in the crook of his neck. His fingers dug into Trott’s back. He could feel Ross shaking.

Trott supposed he would need to have a firm hold on those keys when Smith did find out or he might not be able to stop him. It was taking all his own self control not to walk naked and dripping with drawn knives right into Kirin’s court. If he couldn’t so clearly imagine the horror in Ross’ eyes if he did that, he would be on the way. But that was suicide, and it was the sort of thing Smith would do. No, Trott thought as he kissed Ross’ hair. He needed a plan. He would have to come up with a plan. Something smart, something the fae lord wouldn’t see until it was too late. He pondered the thought, holding Ross close with an arm around his neck.

The water cooled around them, and Trott flexed his feet with a regretful little sigh. He didn’t want to let go of Ross, but they could not sit here forever. His knees ached a little and he wasn’t fond of the tepid temperature of the water. They needed somewhere more comfortable.

“Come on then, before you get cold.” He uncoiled himself and stepped out of the tub. Ross swished his tail reluctantly through the bath before following. Dripping, he scuffed through the puddles of water splashed out earlier to get towels. Trott made a mental note to find a bathroom rug.

Ross stood quietly, letting Trott dry him off. Trott wanted to make a joke about polishing him up, but Ross was still so subdued he let the moment pass. Instead he just kept his hands on Ross as much as he could, hoping it conveyed some sense of security.

With one hand on Ross’ wrist, he led him back to their shared room with the big corner windows and the excellent view. Trott could not bring himself to regret spending so much of their heist money on this place. Sips certainly loved it. The view was excellent, even when it was just more miserable weather and clouds and rain.

“We’re going to have a little afternoon nap,” Trott said in a voice that allowed no argument. “You need to rest, after all that magic.”

“I am tired,” Ross admitted.

He crawled into bed, burrowing into the mess of sheets and blankets and the two different comforters because no one was especially good at sharing during the night. Pushing his head under a pillow, Ross sprawled out on his stomach.

“That’s a good impression of Smith, trying to take up all the bed there.”

From under the pillow, Ross laughed quietly. Trott pulled the pillow away and laid down beside him, dragging blankets around them until they were nested in all the bedding. Trott thought he’d sleep naked more if he wasn’t sharing the space with so many bodies. Sometimes he felt a little too raw, outside his other skin. But it was different with Ross somehow, because he was stone and magic instead of ordinary flesh. Ross radiated the lingering heat from the water and Trott wriggled a little closer to rest his feet on Ross’ legs.

“You’re safe with me here,” he whispered in Ross’ ear. He felt Ross’ tail loop over his thigh as he settled himself against Ross’ back. Ross made a little noise and shifted into him.

“Go to sleep, Ross.” Trott combed his fingers through Ross’ hair, down his neck to his shoulder. “I’m right here.” He watched the light outside shift and fade towards evening as he considered plans to destroy Kirin. Sleep eluded him, but Ross closed his eyes and settled without trouble. Trott let his fingers find the places in the stone worn smooth, familiar handholds where his fingers fit into the lines of Ross’s body. Ross rolled and tucked his head into Trott’s shoulder, their legs tangled together. He wasn’t quite asleep yet but close enough.

Trott remembered the early days, when Ross first came to live with them. It was so hard to convince him to relax and he hardly seemed to need any sleep at all. Trott would wake up and find Ross crouched, watchful and awake at all hours. Endless persuasion and coaxing finally lured him into bed, and they took turns sleeping on him to keep him there. Even so it was still a long time before Trott ever saw him actually sleep. Watching him now, he wasn’t surprised to see Ross drift off so quickly. Sleep was one of those habits he’d acquired, like breathing. It came easier some days, and Trott supposed the after effects of being drowned twice by two different water fae would make anyone tired if they weren’t dead.

 

* * *

It was late afternoon, shading into evening when Ross woke up from his nap. Trott dressed him with gentle hands, picking out fresh clothes from the closet. Dark jeans, and the softest sweater he could find, a dark blue and green striped one. Ross didn’t question it and didn’t even make his usual complaints about having to get dressed at all. He just enjoyed Trott’s touch, the way he looked at Ross with that little smile curving his lips. The silence was easy.

“You want some tea?” Trott asked as Ross followed him into the kitchen.

“Sure.” Ross leaned against the fridge, watching Trott move around with quiet efficiency. While the kettle boiled Ross leaned his chin on the top of Trott’s head, making him huff with amusement and exasperation. He pulled Ross’ arms around him.

The tea smelled like oranges and cloves, a dark reddish color in the white porcelain cups Ross didn’t even realize were in the cupboard. Trott handed him a cup and Ross enjoyed the heat of it soaking into his hand.

He dozed off again, listening to Trott talking on the phone to someone about the store and the quiet music from his iPod plugged in on the table. His tail tapped to the beat against the carpet.

Ross blinked sleepily, raising his head from Trott’s knees when he heard the front door slam. Sips and Smith crowded in, shaking off the cold and chatting in lively voices.

“Why are you all dressed up?” Smith asked, dropping onto the sofa. He reached out to finger the sweater Ross wore. He smelled like ice and leather, cheeks flushed and his hair unruly. Ross shrugged and tilted his head towards Trott. Smith chuckled knowingly.   

“I made reservations at Olive & June for you,” Trott said, stretching a hand up to Sips. “Take Ross, go eat some dinner.” They shared a look and Sips nodded slightly.

“Come on, Ross, let’s go stuff ourselves on fancy pasta.” Sips grinned and held out his hand. Ross heaved himself up from the floor.

“I want dinner too,” Smith declared. Trott stopped him from getting up from the sofa, a hand tight on his wrist.

“Let them go,” he said softly. “You and I need to talk.”

“Alright.” Smith looked at him with narrowed eyes, instantly guarded. Sips raised an eyebrow at their inaudible exchange.

Trott stood and picked up Ross’ winter coat from the back of the sofa.

“I want to hear all about it when you get home.” He stood on his toes and kissed Ross on the cheek. Ross grinned and slipped into his coat.

“Want me to bring you something?”

“Dessert, maybe.” He gave Ross a gentle shove towards the door. “Get going.”

“Catch you later, Trott.” Sips let his hand curve around the nape of Trott’s neck and leaned in close. His breath was hot on Trott’s cheek. “Anything I should know?”

“We had a little problem, but I’m working on it.” Trott let his eyes follow Smith. At the opposite end of the sofa, Ross stood playfully thwacking Smith with his tail as he described something with animated hand gestures.

“How little of a problem?” Sips asked.

“The damage was reversible.”

“Shit.”

“It’s alright. Just do your thing with him, he needs his king.” For so many reasons, Trott thought. He would have to tell Sips the rest of the story, but it could come later.

“I got Ross, don’t worry about that. What are you going to do about Smith?”

“His own pain doesn’t work, maybe Ross’ pain will be the thing that keeps him in line.”

“Hmm.” Sips shrugged. “Whatever you think best then, I trust you.”

“Glad to hear,” Trott said dryly.

“That wasn’t sarcastic.”

“We have some things to talk about, later.” Trott picked his phone up, checked the blinking messages. “Your cab’s here.”

“Come on, Ross, before they run out of bread.” Ross laughed, remembering a dinner some months ago and a very exasperated waiter. Sips herded him to the door, a hand in the small of his back like he was escorting a date to a dance. He smirked and waved at the other two.

The silence left behind was deafening. Trott folded his arms and looked at Smith, torn between resignation and anger.

“What’s going on?” Smith finally asked in an uneasy voice.

“How much do you know about your magic?”

“What does that have to do with-”

“How much do you know about how it works, why it works?”

“I don’t know, Trott.” Smith twitched his shoulders and frowned. “It just works. I turn it up, I turn it down. Don’t need to know more than that really.”

“Gods above and below, what do they teach you fuckers up there in the hills?” Trott muttered to himself. “Do they teach you anything?” He glared at Smith and folded his arms over his chest, pacing between the window and the sofa.

“What are you on about, mate?”

“Did you think nothing would happen?”

“With what?” Smith shifted, fingering the keys in his jacket pocket.

“When you played your little game with Ross.”

“Oh.”

“Oh, that,” Trott snapped, letting the anger color his voice. “Yes, it is a damn good thing he doesn’t have to breathe or you would have broken that promise.”

“Trott-”

“No, you listen to me, Smith.” Trott’s voice was harsh, cold. “You fucked up.”

“Look, he offered-”

“Don’t even use that as an excuse!” shouted Trott. “Ross doesn’t know a damn bit more than you about it, and he loves you too much to even think about the consequences to himself.”

Smith stopped, mouth open. He blinked and lowered his hand from whatever angry gesture he was about to make. Trott gripped his elbows tightly and took a deep breath.

“I don’t know how much magic you poured into him, but I found enough of it days later to make him sick.”

“What do you mean, sick?”

“Yes,” Trott said grimly. “You didn’t notice, because you don’t pay attention.”

“Is he okay?”

“He is now.” Trott pointed at Smith, walking close enough to jab him in the chest. “No one survives those spells, kelpie. What did you think, the magic just evaporates because you’re done fucking him? It doesn’t work like that.”

“He seemed fine to me!” Smith growled and pushed Trott back. “I was careful!”

“Clearly not careful enough.” Trott walked back towards the window, looking down at the city in darkness. “It wasn’t the drowning so much that did it, it was the other part. All that charm is just as dangerous as the water. You should know that.”

Smith sat on the arm of the sofa, a troubled expression replacing his anger.

“What’s happened?”

“You could kill them without even drowning them.” Trott spoke in a quieter voice, watching the lights waver where sleet hit the glass. “They would be so lost without you, they’d gradually lose the will to do anything. They would just wait for you... it would be a slow death.”

“Is that…” he trailed off.

“It was starting.” Trott turned around, stared at Smith. He had the grace to shudder, imagining the consequences.

“I didn’t know.”

“Now you do.”

“I won’t do it again.”

“Fucking too right you won’t!” His voice rose again as he stalked across the room to get in Smith’s face once more. “I’m tempted to take those fucking keys away from you entirely. You have no self control, Smith.”

“I… _fuck_ , Trott, come on… you know I wouldn’t.. fuck I didn’t mean to hurt him. I didn’t know!”

“I can forgive so much from you, sunshine, but I won’t forgive you if you do something like that to Ross again.” He hooked his fingers into Smith’s collar, jerking Smith closer to him. Trott pinned him with his cold, searching stare. “Don’t you _ever,_ even if he asks. Even if he begs you with those pretty blue eyes of his. Do we understand each other?”

“I won’t,” Smith whispered. “I promise, Trott. I won’t.”

“Swear on those keys, and the water, and anything else you hold dear,” demanded Trott.

Smith hastily fished the keys out of his jacket and thrust them into Trott’s open hand.

“I swear I will never hurt Ross,” he vowed. “I will never use that magic on him again.” He paused, then pulled his hand back and left the keys resting in Trott’s palm. Smith slid down onto the sofa cushions and put his face in his hands.

“He didn’t want to tell me.” Trott tucked the keys into the pocket of his jeans, the clink and glitter muffled.

Smith looked up at Trott, fingers spread over his face like a mask.

“He was more concerned about protecting you. He had no idea what was happening to him.”

“Fuck,” Smith said succinctly. He dropped his hands wearily, looking unhappy and worried.

“He’s loyal to a fault, that one.” Trott settled himself on the sofa, Smith’s keys a warmth against his leg. His anger cooled, worn away in the face of Smith’s genuine contrition and his own weariness.

“He is,” Smith agreed. He couldn’t meet Trott’s gaze.

“We should take better care of him,” sighed Trott. “We are the last sort to inspire that kind of devotion.” He thought about Kirin again, his sweetly poisonous words and Ross’ guilt. His own guilt, for his carelessness about sending Ross to the greenhouse and never finding out what happened to make him stop going entirely.

Smith snorted and glanced sideways. He leaned into Trott and clasped his hands between his knees.

“We’re not so terrible,” he began. “Could be worse...”

“Aren’t we though?” Trott laughed. “Fucking garbage, all over the city.”

“Everything gets dirty.”

“That’s surprisingly philosophical for you,” Trott noted in a dry tone.

“Fuck off.” Smith’s voice lacked any heat. They sat in silence for a little bit, until Smith turned his face and nuzzled into Trott’s hair.

“I wouldn’t have, if I had known.”

“I know, sunshine. How come you don’t know anything about your own magic?”

Smith shrugged. He let himself rest against Trott, head on his shoulder.

“Never came up?”

“Who taught you then?”

“My mum, and my grandmum a little,” Smith answered.

Trott hummed an acknowledgement, pondering. They could not have grown up more differently, that much was clear. He could barely remember a time when someone wasn’t giving him lessons, even if the lessons were hidden in games.

“I’ll teach you what I know, at least. That’s better than nothing.”

“How do you know anything about it?”

“Education.” Trott shrugged this time. “I learned a lot of things, a lot of different kinds of magic. I stole the rest.” There was an extensive library in his father’s home, under lock and key. Trott got tired very quickly of waiting for information to be doled out in small bites. It was not hard at all to figure out how to cheat the locks and the magic protecting the books.

“Huh.”

Trott slipped his arm around Smith’s waist. Smith was hot under his jacket, shifting himself closer to Trott.

“I’m going to need you, Smith.”

“For what?”

Trott gave him a sharp little grin, devoid of humor.

“To start a fire. Maybe a war.”

Smith smiled against Trott’s hair. He twisted a little more, bent so he could kiss the back of Trott’s neck. Trott groaned quietly at the touch of Smith’s lips. He wanted to just sink into Smith’s arms, enjoy him. But they weren’t done yet and there was worse to come.

“There’s something else you need to know.” Trott took a breath to steady himself.

Smith pulled back and looked at him curiously.

“You weren’t the only one who hurt Ross.”

“What?”

“It was bad, and he’s a wreck about it,” Trott continued. “He needs you, but not you angry and ready to burn down the city.”

“Who?” demanded Smith. His eyes darkened.

Trott looked at him very levelly for a moment, and surreptitiously brushed the keys in his pocket. He took hold of Smith’s hand with his own, lacing their fingers together. It surprised him how hard it was to say.

“The horned shitlord in the greenhouse.”

“What!” Smith snapped, almost breathlessly. “When? What happened?”

“Over the summer, when we had him picking up those flowers.” Trott said, his voice flat. “That night he came home so unhappy and said something about Kirin trying to lure him away to his court.” The night they’d strengthened the blood bond, Trott remembered now.

“Trott, what did he do?” Smith’s voice was low.

“Are you sure you want to know? It’s not pretty at all.”

“Fucking tell me.”

“He raped him.” His voice sounded hollow in his ears as he explained as calmly as he could. “Gave him a whole speech about how he failed his task, but he could be so much better and then shoved his dick in his mouth to teach him a lesson about serving a true king.”

Smith nearly jerked away, fury in every line of him. Trott put all his weight into holding him back.

“I will _fucking kill him_ , I will _burn_ that place to the ground and salt it!” Smith shouted. Trott kept his grip tight on Smith’s waist and his hand, fighting to hold on as he tried to slip and twist away.

“ _No_ you won’t,” Trott shot back. “Not yet!”

“ _Trott!_ How can you just fucking sit here, not doing anything?!” Smith’s eyes were nearly black, furious and wild. “What he did!”

“Not yet!” Trott repeated. He pushed hard against Smith, half on top of him and holding him down on the sofa.

“We can’t let him get away with this!”

“We won’t,” he said, gripping Smith tight enough to bruise. “But we’re going to have to make plans if we’re going to do this right.”

Smith snarled, still vibrating with anger and the desire to do something, anything.

“I _know_ ,” Trott soothed. “I know.” He pressed his mouth to Smith’s ear, feeling him jerk against Trott’s hold.

“Don’t you think I want to do it too?” Trott hissed, his breath hot. “I want to cut his throat and feel his blood on my hands. But going in like this is suicide, and that doesn’t help Ross at all.”

Smith made an angry sound, jaw clenched. But he relaxed a fraction and stopped fighting to get up. He flexed his fingers in Trott’s grip.

“He needs us right now, Smith.”

For several heartbeats they both strained against each other. Smith let go first, and stopped pushing to get free. Trott kept laying half on Smith, mostly to keep him there in case he riled himself up again. But also because it felt good and he wanted the comfort of a warm body beside him. His rage was contained, but it ached fiercely.

“Why didn’t he say something sooner?” Smith asked, staring up at the ceiling.

“He blames himself,” Trott said, letting the sadness creep into his voice.

“But-”

“He thinks he failed us,” Trott interrupted. “He told me he was afraid you’d go out and burn down the greenhouse, get yourself killed.”

Smith quieted at that. Some of the color returned to his eyes.

“But we’re not going to do anything rash, are we?” asked Trott.

“No,” Smith agreed. “Nothing rash. Not yet.”

 

* * *

Smith was on his third beer, draped over Trott’s lap like a large and lazy beast, when he heard the keys in the lock. Ross carried a takeout box and Sips was flushed like he’d been drinking wine all night.  

“What’d you bring home, sunshine?” Trott called out, looking away from the movie. He untangled his fingers from Smith’s hair.

“Meyer lemon tart,” Ross announced. He had snowflakes in his hair. “I’ll put it in the fridge for you.”

Trott smiled fondly at him, and patted Smith on the shoulder. He slid off Trott’s lap, and followed Ross into the kitchen as Sips tossed the coats into the pile on the chair no one ever seemed to actually use.

When Ross turned back from the fridge, Smith crashed into him. They spun a little awkwardly from Smith’s momentum, and Ross had to grab the edge of the counter before he lost his balance. Smith chuckled and slid his hands under Ross’ sweater, to the cool skin above the waist of his jeans. Ross nuzzled his head, murmuring a greeting.

Smith looked sideways over Ross’ shoulder, into the living room. Trott was still on the sofa, but he was leaning forward with his elbows on his knees. Sips stood beside him, one hand resting on Trott’s shoulder. Whatever they were saying, Smith couldn’t hear over the sound of the television. He could recognize the slump of Trott’s shoulders though, enough to know he was probably explaining things to Sips.

“Come with me.” He stepped backwards, pulling Ross towards the hallway and the bedroom. Ross let himself be dragged along, thinking this was the story of his entire day. Someone was pulling him somewhere, someone had a hand or an arm on him. He didn’t really mind so much though, at least not for today.

Smith tugged the sweater over his head, trying not to snag it on Ross’ horns. He let it drop and moved in close to kiss Ross softly, carefully. Smith’s fingers deftly unfastened the many buttons of Ross’ jeans. He was unusually careful and Ross noticed. With a little noise, unsure what he even wanted to say, Ross pulled off Smith’s work shirt and wrapped his arms around him. They swayed a little, standing mostly undressed at the foot of the bed. Ross wondered how it was possible to feel tired even after his afternoon nap. Maybe it was all that dinner.

“Ross.” Smith’s voice was strained. Ross paused in rubbing his fingers up the long muscles of Smith’s back.

“Don’t.. you don’t have to say anything.” He sighed. Ross knew with complete certainty that Trott told Smith while he was out for dinner. It was to be expected. Somehow it was a bit of a relief. But he’d hoped maybe they wouldn’t have to talk about it.

“Just, I-”

“It’s okay, Smith.” Ross closed his eyes and shifted from foot to foot, sliding his jeans down with his heel.

“It’s not okay though, is it?” Smith’s voice was soft, and there was an unexpected sadness to it that made Ross pause in toeing off his shoes and kicking away the jeans.

“I don’t.. what do you want me to say, Smith?”

“Anything, anything you want.” He raised his hands a little helplessly.

Ross sighed and pulled away. The only light in the room was the lamp on the side of the bed that Sips preferred, a dim yellow glow. It made for heavy shadows, reflected in the floor to ceiling glass of the window. Clothes and towels littered the floor, along with a few stray shoes. The two shelf bookcase that served as a table was stacked with all sorts of junk - phone chargers, a pair of sunglasses, a few empty cups, a paperback book and two different kinds of lube. The bed was forever unmade, heaped with tangled bedding and pillows. Ross sank onto it and reached for the blanket he was fond of, patterned with tiny fleurs de lys and crowns on a blue background. He had no idea where it came from, he realized. It was just there one day and he took to pulling it around his shoulders more for the feel of the material than for any warmth.

“It is only going to make you feel worse, if I describe it.” Ross lifted a hand, let it fall. “I don’t want- I don’t know.”

“Why didn’t you tell us?” Smith asked. “I know you think you were trying to protect us but… were you ever going to say anything?”

“I don’t know,” Ross whispered. “I was afraid.”

“Of him?”

“Of this.” Ross waved a hand at the room. “Of not deserving this, of losing it.”

“You would never lose us.”

“Not even if I did something terrible?”

“This wasn’t your fault, Ross.” Smith’s eyes darkened for a moment and his fingers tightened into a fist.

“Trott said that, too.”

“Well, you should probably listen to him.”

“Since when are you the one telling me to listen to Trott?” Ross chuckled.

Smith shrugged. He sat down to yank off his boots and peel off his trousers. They joined the piles of clothes on the floor. Ross thought idly that someone was going to have to figure out the clothes situation soon or they wouldn’t have anything clean. Trott wouldn’t like that. Maybe he would deal with it tomorrow.

“We don’t have to talk about what happened if you don’t want,” Smith said finally. They sat shoulder to shoulder on the end of the bed. “I just don’t want you to think... I would do anything, Ross, anything you want me to do.”

“I know you would,” Ross said softly.

“Whatever you need.”

“Just be here.”

Smith nodded. He pushed pillows up against the headboard. They settled together, bodies entwined and Ross pulled his blanket over them. Smith’s arm was a comforting weight around his shoulder, the only thing he really wanted in the moment. He hooked his tail around Smith’s leg. Ross listened to the steady beat of Smith’s heart, eyes closed.

 

* * *

Late into the night, the other two finally made their way to the bedroom. Sips stood with his arm around Trott’s shoulders in the doorway. His tie was loose around his neck, shirt unbuttoned and baseball cap tipped slightly askew.

“Where I grew up, something like this happened…” he began. His expression was pensive. “It was the kind of thing you killed somebody for. No one questioned your right to it. Just how it was.”

The lamp was still on, tinting the room with an amber light and leaving thick shadows. Ross and Smith were asleep, tucked into the middle of the bed. Smith had most of the pillows. Everything in the room was peaceful, quiet.

“Your family?” asked Trott, his voice low. He looked exhausted, dark circles forming under his eyes. He let himself lean a little on his king. No one else was awake to see. Trott knew Sips wouldn’t say anything about it.

“Friend of mine,” Sips sighed and rubbed at his face. “Bad business, all around.”

“I don’t know what I’m going to do, Sips.” The admission pained him. He had to figure out something to protect them, something to strike back at Kirin. The back and forth, the skirmishes, the occasional violence, that was all part of the game of trying to take the city. But this hurt was too personal to forgive.  

“You’ll figure it out,” Sips replied, his voice full of confidence. “You’re smart, Trott. You’ll know it when you see it.” He stepped forward into the room, pulling Trott along with him.

What Sips lacked in inherent magic, he made up for in cleverness, certain worldly knowledge and strange inspiration. Trott was never more grateful for his directness, or the simplicity of his trust in them.

**“I hope so.”  
**


End file.
